Ranaerten, Indrasena

[sam]

INDRASENA RAZIAH VARINDRA RANAERTEN


dedicated, sarcastic, realistic

BACK TO BASICS ' '

Full Name: Indrasena Raziah Varindra Ranaerten
Significance of Name:

• Indrasena – Sanskrit meaning of ‘best warrior’ Gunnr, along with two other Valkyries selected warriors from battle fields to take with them to Valhöll (Valhalla)
  
• Raziah – Arabic for ‘happily chosen’, warriors chosen by Gunnr and her two fellow Valkyries were taken to Odin’s hall to aid him during Ragnarök
  
• Varindra – Sanskrit for ‘Master of the Chosen’ see above for details
  
• Ranaerten – Ran is a Norse form of the name meaning ‘wolf shield’ Gunnr is often depicted riding a wolf whilst selecting dead warriors. Aerten comes from the Welsh meaning ‘battle ending’, which is where Gunnr and her fellow Valkyries appear from

Nickname(s): Whatever people come up with
Age: Eighteen
Gender: Female
Orientation: Bisexual
Grade: Senior
Celeb you're using: Olivia Wilde
Deity: Gunnr - Norse
Title of your deity: One of Odin’s Valkyries

STRIKE A POSE ' '

Physical Appearance:
hair
She's not very ''girly'', and she doesn't spend hours combing, styling and playing with her hair. It's a dark brown, falls to the middle of her back and she leaves it how nature intended. To its on devices. She'll brush it in the morning and leave it down for the rest of the day, letting it's soft curls brush over her shoulders. When sparring or working she's likely to pull it into a pony tail. To keep it out the way. She doesn't believe there's anything too special about her hair, it goes slightly lighter in the summer, as many people's do, but this has yet to make a difference on her life as a whole. It's hair, it's an accessory. She could shave it off if she wanted to.

clothes
Here Indrasena can appear a little contradictory to the hair comment. She has no problem pulling on some high heeled, knee high leather boots, tight jeans and a shirt when just walking around. When training she reverts into comfort and doesn't care whether people see her in an old pair of tracksuit pants and a sports bra. When training she is focused, she doesn't want to have to worry about the limitations of clothing. When around Pantheon and the surrounding areas she doesn't weary anything to particularly stick out, if you don't count knee high leather high heels, she'll wrap herself in blouses and jumpers, jeans, maybe the occasional skirt depending on the occasion. She doesn't mind showing off to the population she is female with her sense of dress, but it's not in-your-face. Most girls do go around with the occasional v-necked shirt on. Make up wise? Only when necessary. Eyeliner never hurt anyone in the long run so slapping some on in the morning can't be a bad thing.

expressions
She's expressive when she wants to be, you can see straight through to the annoyance with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look. But there are times when the expressionless barrier comes down, when she's dealing with death or personally emotional concepts. Then she will just look disinterested if not blank. She'll joke and smile with the best of them, but if something starts effecting her she slams up barriers without a second thought. It's fast and it's harsh, and she doesn't let you in afterwards. It's best to let her cool down. It's a similar effect when she's in training, the focus is zeroed in on the prize, ignoring the outside for the time being. She detaches herself from outside stimuli which can often make her appear cold, but she's warm enough inside.

tattoo
She has two. One on her ankle: thin line of joined, tangled ivy in black. And one on her hip. Her hip tattoo was the first one she got with her cousin Ryleigh. Ryleigh made her do it. A black stemmed tribal style rose rests above her hipbone with a faint red outline around the flower itself. Don't ask for meanings, she can never be asked to explain. Even if they aren't exactly complicated. She liked the design. Simple as that. People just don't believe her.

LET'S GET TO KNOW YOU BETTER ' '

Personality Description:
sarcastic,
Any guy, or girl for that matter, who doesn't read into the sarcasm is either going to get the piss ripped out of them, or they're not worth the time. She's got a sharp tongue and a sharper right hook. So the sarcasm is a warning. If she's making snarky comments at you, back down, she might look a slender five foot seven, but in a pair of heels she won't hesitate to use the physical violence one tends not to expect of someone that petitie. She’s not dirty fighter, but she’s not above jabbing a heel into the top of your foot as a warning. Sarcasm runs in the family, you don't get through a family dinner without some sort of battle of wits. A perfectly normal conversation about your day can turn into the most ridiculous mash up of insulting sarcasm. Gets you ready for the dicks in the world. If you can handle your family, who know your weaknesses, you can handle men in suits.

adventurous,
Never one to hold back when it comes to a challenge. Whether it's a drinking contest, a shooting contest, an orienteering contest. Maybe it's not even a contest, but it's more fun to think of it as one. She uses the age old, bad film cliche of 'never back down'. She can be overly stubborn, but she's also quiet headstrong. She'll step into something to see what's going on, walk into the back room where there's banging and yelling to see what's going on. She's the person in a horror film that everyone in the audience yells at because when they hear the dying screams of their dead best friend they try to see if they can find a different way to get back towards that scream. She's just got that streak of adventure in her that's always at the back of her mind telling her to go left because left is a more shadowed path and you can't see the end. There's more mystery in there. She's a bit of a paradox. Rational and realist, but faced with some sort of challenge, she'll pick the more interesting, daring route rather than the safe and pretty route. She’s not stupid, but mundane life bores her.

realist,
She's not one to mince her words. She will say exactly what she thinks of you when you say it. "You like my dress?" "It makes you look like someone jammed a banana into a green condom, but otherwise it looks good." See? She's also a realist in life. She doesn't think life is all butterflies and daisies, but she also doesn't think that its black holes and chainsaws. Mexico isn't the easiest place to live in. Going to a washing machine repair man can, and sometimes is, the last thing you ever do. She doesn't believe there's no colour left in the world, but she is sometimes a appears as cynical, distant. She'd point a gun at you rather than let you explain yourself without said firearm. It is a realistic desire in Mexico when having a gun pointing at someone talking to you is much better than having the weapon pointing at you. It's just safer that way. The neighbourhoods are rough, the chance of gang warfare horribly high. Pantheon Academy? Boring in comparison.

rational,
It stems from working in a realistic world. She thinks before she acts, not always before she talks. There's always a part of her that tells her to wait a moment and mentally discuss things. Unfortunately, there's a larger part of her brain saying ‘cut him down'. She tries to be thorough and rational, but there's an elaborate, jumpy side of her brain which disagrees with the rational and she sometimes gives in to the jumpy. She does have a habit of putting her foot in her mouth when she's just talking and talking and talking, but if you really frustrate her she'll usually switch into Spanish and start cursing your family whilst sending upper cuts your way through her knuckles. She lets the rational go out of the window when people really rile her up.

systematic,
She’s always been one to think events (current and future) through, making sure she knows how she’s going to get from A to B and back again and then how event C will correspond with event X and therefore her day is planned out. He might seem like a spur of the moment kind of girl upon first meeting or a brief glance, but really she’s not. More or less everything that comes to mind has been thought of at some previous date and now’s just the best time to mention it. She simply doesn’t telegraph her actions to others, making her seem random in her decisions

dedicated,
She's self motivated and always has been. She doesn't rely on others to tell her she has to do this or complete that, if it needs to be done, Indrasena has done it. She focuses on a task and refuses to let it go until finished or defeated. She's not stupid, as stated before, she does know when to let go of a futile task. At times she can appear as incredibly work oriented, her focus entirely on the job at hand and therefore this work could easily get in the way of social engagements and the like. But, if the task is done the social gathering is always sweeter.

Likes:
- Marital Arts - vague, I know, but watching, learning and performing come under the same category
- Weaponry - whether using or examining depends on the time and feeling
- Men
- Woman
- Combining the two above
- Loyalty
- Holding all the cards
- Not having to rely on most people around her for support, - she can go for them for help, but she doesn't have to
- Films - everyone deserves a small pleasure
- Wolves, beautiful creatures
Dislikes:
- Orders she can't bend - she is perfectly willing to take orders, but if she doesn't agree whole heartedly with the reasons behind the order she will voice her opinion. A commander that doesn't take the word of a soldier into at least consideration is not worth her time
- Those who run away from confrontation without good reason - yes, backing down is not dishonorable, but running is
- Confinement - whether physical or emotional
- The weakminded - grow a backbone?
- Invasion of privacy
Strengths:
- In-depth knowledge of the arts of fighting
- Loyalty
- Can be completely dedicated and single minded - positive when such a task needs to be completed
- Adventurous
- Honest and blunt - she figures this as a positive aspect, beating around the bush has no real use in modern day life except to shield people from hardship
Weaknesses:
- Can hold a grudge her entire life. - lose her trust and it's lost
- Quick to judge
- Can be completely dedicated and single minded - negative when interfering with other events
- When riled she can be horrifyingly vengeful
- She only receives full control of her power in deep concentration. It's difficult to fully comprehend and specifically reach for the right moment in the future. Flashes of the future that have no meaning for her can appear on occasion or, to contrast, she could pass an entire day with a migraine because apocalyptic futures have decided to roost in her mind.
Fears:

• Making an incorrect (in her eyes) decision because of premonition
  
• Failure to escape the family
  

Goal:
- Takes every day as it comes. Goals change when the future does

Power/Ability: Precognition - Gunnr and her two Valkyrie companions were sent to scour the battlefields for the best potential soldiers for Odin. Indrasena's precognition links in with the idea of being able to predict the potential in soldiers through their future actions.

WELCOME TO MY LIFE ' '

Place of Origin: Monterrey, Mexico
History:
Fencing, feeling the moves before they happened blindfolded.

Being born in Mexico either gives you a chance to become incredibly rich, die incredibly young or live a life which most would call torture. Indrasena started off with the first option. Gang warfare is common in Mexico and Indrasena was the daughter of a gang leader. Which in some respects was incredibly lucky for her. People died daily, sometimes there would be a lull of a month or so when quiet spread around in ominous waves, but then some spark would trigger a battle and chaos would reign again.

Indrasena had, and still has, two sisters and one brothers. She's nothing special, the youngest middle child of four and they act like siblings do. They bicker, they fight and the growl at each other. Steal boyfriends, have long chats into the night, go to the other for advice about something or other. They're close siblings. As Indrasena's life went, it was oddly normal for the daughter of a gang leader. The Inmolado had been present in Monterrey for decades, a constant annoyance to the police force, and their rival gang Campo de la Máquina. She was a quiet child, reveling in the knowledge of the outside world as well as that of her own world. Which was mostly, fighting. All the Ranaerten children were meticulously taught self-defence, Aikido and a modified form of fencing and Kendo. Indrasena relished in the smooth movements, the precision, the perfect pace and the darkened attack. By twelve she could take apart a Winchester Model 77 Semi Automatic .22 Caliber Rifle in thirty seconds. And put it back together of course.

Indrasena was never sheltered. Her father, since her mother had died when she was seven, made sure that his daughters knew exactly what was out there. Exactly what the world held for girls like them. The world was dangerous, step outside the door and you could be greeted with a handshake or a mugging. All you had to do was interpret the signs and stay away from them, or run headfirst into them and see what damage you could cause. But the first option seemed more appropriate.

She was fourteen when the battle broke out. Thirteenth of May and it seemed a perfectly normal day. The day was hot and the humidity was rising. Indrasena had been out with her brother, travelling home from taking the washing machine to be repaired. They didn't know what set it off, but the gunfire sprouted from nowhere, shattering glass and pock-marking stone. Automatically taking cover behind their car, waiting out the rain of slugs seemed to be the only option. Running to the right or the left would put them directly in the cross-fire. Yet, that didn't seem to make a difference. One errant bullet and Indrasena's brother collapsed with a soft sigh onto the concrete. To go into detail would be cruel, but the gunfire raged for the next forty minutes, leaving Indrasena with her brothers corpse and no feasible means of an exit.

When the bullets were spent a bodies strewn, only then did Indrasena rise, looking across the street to the front of their house. Twenty yards more and they would've been home? Didn't seem to matter how close they were, it wasn't close enough. The battle had raged between the two usual culprits. Campo de la Máquina and Inmolado. Indresena knew many of the forms lying disconnected from their souls on the concrete, but she made her way up to her house. And her father ordered her and her two sisters to bring the dead home. They left the other half to the Campo de la Máquina, their leading standing square on the side of the road next to their blacked out Land Rover. The death of her brother didn't seem to effect Indrasena as much as she previously believed it would. Sadness and grief were dominant for a few days, but it was more like a fuel for her dedication. Hours were spent in the training halls, personal trainers worn out by relentless sparring.

It was within a fencing lesson when Indrasena was sixteen when the premonition hit. It wasn't large, and it wasn't very noticeable at first. She seemed to be able to predict her opponents next move. She'd been fencing with a teacher she'd never had before and yet his moves seemed slower and obvious, as if her mind was directing her hand because she knew where he'd put his blade. Within five minutes she'd disarmed him, her foil placed dangerously close to his jugular. Later on that evening she'd have a migraine to rival all she'd had before. Dreams held clearer visions, flashes of a school, dark suited men at the door. She never tended to remember her dreams, but this one stuck like glue until in a windy January two dark suited men rapped loudly at the door.

CONNECTION TO THE MYTH ' '

• Inmolado means 'Slain' in Spanish, Indrasena's first language. Valkyries carried dead soldiers to Odin's 'Hall of the Slain' (Vahalla)
  
• Campo de la Máquina, Inmolado's rival gang is translated as field of the host, or the dead. Dead soldiers not taken by Odin's Valkyries were Freyja's afterlife field Fólkvangr.
  
• Indrasena's father (master) ordered her and her two sisters (fellow Valkyries) to bring home the dead after a battle.
  
• A vengeful personality drawn out of hardship and death. Valkyries are constantly surrounded by such.

ROLEPLAYING SAMPLE ' '

It wasn't that Rosie needed a job, she technically had one. Not a bad one either. There weren't exactly that many people who could stand there behind the counter, look at a customer coming in and size them up into seeing what rifle would suit them. Rosie had spent enough time around weapons that she could usually get that right. However, working at a shop meant hours that a shop opened at. This meant free time. And that was the whole point. Rosie and free time did not mix well. Many a time had a good, nice free couple of hours turned into a fully planned event which tended to cause some sort of damage to property. Or, in the usual case, her cousin Ryleigh's kitchen. So, she'd told herself after sitting in front of an american game of football that getting an evening job would be really good for the sake of property values. Jobs usually weren't too hard to come by, moving to Graham she'd found a job within a week. Getting a second one might be a little more difficult. She didn't have any qualifications past school, had never gone to college and had never intended to, that could come back to haunt her now. Well, depending on what she wanted to do. It wasn't like she was thinking of going to apply for some medical job or some weird idea like that. No, definitely not. No, she was more for the manual, hands on type work. Something to keep her busy basically.

Which was why she'd headed down the high street, boots clicking on the concrete of the pavement heading towards The Barn. She'd been in a couple of times before, just as a patron, as you do. You go in for a drink, shout at the television, find some guy's trying to chat you up after one to many bottles of Jack and kick him in the balls. Men seemed to like their balls, so threatening them, or even letting your knee connect with them tended to be a good 'leave me the hell alone' technique. After finishing her shift at the gun smiths, which hadn't exactly been a strenuous day. A day of staring down an old man who had thought that he could pay for a revolver with another revolver. No. You gave Rosie money, she gave you lethal killing weapons. Lethal for rabbits usually. Still, she needed something to keep her occupied, and hauling her long, dark hair up into a pony tail after washing the gun dust from it, pulling on what for her passed as a dressy outfit (jeans, boots and a blouse) and stalking out was her way of doing it. Pieces of her hair flopped around her ears because she could never be asked to actually tie the entire thing up. The pain of having long, wavy hair, it never stayed where you wanted it to. And Rosie had stopped caring too much. She just let it flop and wave, she'd gotten over it being annoying. And it wasn't like it made any difference, it was either noticed or it wasn't. She had never seen the point in spending six hours on your hair when guys were going to be fixated on your chest instead. It might seem cynical, but most of the time ti was regrettably true.

Boot clacking on the concrete in a distinctly feminine manner, Rosie placed a palm flat on the door, giving an experimental push. It swung open easily, the hinges barely scraping over each other. She stepped over the threshold which was quickly becoming familiar to her, one hand resting on her hip just above her belt. She smirked slightly, it was just such a...clean bar. It was what her mind registered first. That this place was clean and well kept and well liked. Made her smile. Of course, it wasn't hard to make Rosie smile usually, but, like most, it helped to hit the right buttons. Giving a slight smile to a man who grinned back in true Texas fashion, Rosie slipped onto one of the barstools, settling herself with one foot resting on the rung, the other on the floor, heel tapping quietly in time to the soft background music. She might as well take in the 'atmosphere' or whatever the bohemians called it whilst she was here. Catching the bartenders eye she head-signaled him over, eyes still flicking around the bar.

BEHIND THE SCENE ' '

Your name: Sam
Age: old
How long have you been RPing? way too long
Where/How did you find us? Jack dragged me in, blame her

[perse]

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